


Too many times they didn’t rise, and once they did

by travellinghopefully



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Great British Bake Off - Freeform, Soufflés, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travellinghopefully/pseuds/travellinghopefully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara attempts to make lemon soufflés</p>
<p>Others have written brilliant soufflé stories, this is mine.</p>
<p>I have 15 WIP, but sat down and wrote this instead! Well, this is the UK, and the Great British Bake Off is a thing here and it just started again this week - so....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too many times they didn’t rise, and once they did

First, melt the butter.

The Doctor called her from the console room, she went. A surprising amount of acrid black smoke had her scurrying back to the TARDIS kitchen. The butter was a lost cause, and so was the pan.

Gently coat the inside of the ramekins with melted butter and sprinkle over sugar, remove the excess. Hot butter splattered on her hand, she dropped and smashed one ramekin.

Grate lemons, only the skin, not the white pith, or the soufflés will be bitter. She was enthusiastic in her grating – another batch was discarded. She stuck a plaster over her knuckles.

She was not a bossy, control freak, and the TARDIS did not emit sounds that seemed suspiciously like giggling.

Separate the eggs carefully. The Doctor attempted to extract a packet of biscuits from a cupboard at the crucial moment and she split the yolk into the bowl of egg whites. The Doctor suggested it might be helpful to do them one at a time, before adding them to another bowl, that way the whole mix wouldn’t be contaminated. He narrowly dodged the bowl as it sailed towards his head.

She fished the lemons back out from the bin, realising she hadn’t juiced them.

She added sugar to the yolks, mixing to a thick paste. She dipped a finger in the mix and tasted it. Somehow she had selected salt and not sugar, the canisters in the cupboard being almost identical – except for the labels.

She was running out of bowls and kitchen surfaces.

She stopped to wash up, make tea and take a mug to the Doctor, she made sure not to add salt – and as a conciliatory gesture retrieved another packet of Jammy Dodgers from her secret emergency stash. She was sure he actually knew it existed, based on the fact there were never quite as many packets there as she remembered.

The Doctor was wise enough not to ask how it was going, or to offer any further suggestions. The ate and drank in companionable silence.

Pre-heat the oven. Again, acrid smoke. Clara realised she had placed some of the used plastic bowls in the oven to keep them out of the way. She put the rack with melted plastic in the sink, and went to bed.

When she entered the kitchen in the morning, everything was spotless and carefully put away. Either the TARDIS had declared a sudden truce or the Doctor had actually washed up. She supposed he was theoretically capable of such a thing, but she had never witnessed it.

She began the process again, smoothly transitioning to the next step without any further mishaps. She even managed tea and toast and didn’t roll her eyes as the Doctor added yet more sugar to his tea and put chocolate spread, bananas and honey on his toast.

Next step – combine the cream, cornflour and flour and whisk. This should not be lumpy.

Warm the milk ‘til just boiled. Burned milk was not pleasant, it frothed over and seemed to weld itself to everything it touched. She could have sworn she only glanced at the novel she had selected from the library shelves.

Mix the warm milk into the cream/cornflour/flour – ensure there are no lumps.

She threw the bowl out the door, this time unintentionally covering the Doctor in the resultant mess. He stood there dripping, blinking at her owlishly. Before she could apologise he had strode off, muttering and huffing.

When he came back, his hair damp and sticking up in ridiculous tufts, she asked if they might go somewhere. No where that was dangerous, absolutely no where that would require running, just somewhere.

They spent a glorious afternoon by a purple sea, sitting on turquoise sand, watching flying fish play. Clara wondered if it wasn’t possible for more trips like this, and less “adventures”. Excitement was all well and good, but there really was nothing in the least bit wrong in sitting on a plaid blanket, sipping cold drinks and deciding what animals the cloud shapes made. The Doctor named animals she had never heard of, and she wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t just making them up – she decided she wouldn’t challenge him, otherwise he would drag her to see them to prove his point. It was wonderfully comfortable just for once to sit and rest her head against his shoulder, it wasn’t hugging, so he couldn’t possibly object. He had of course tried to move, but she’d stopped him with her best school teacher glare.

Returning to the TARDIS she decided that there had been enough baking for one day, and cleaned what remained of that days efforts.

She awoke to the smell of bacon. The Doctor was sitting in front of a pile of waffles and bacon, well mainly waffles and syrup, with possibly syrup. She should ask him why he had such an extraordinarily sweet tooth some time. She snagged a piece of deliciously crisp bacon and made herself tea. The Doctor ineffectually swatted at her hand as she seized another piece.

Today is the day, she decided, she would make it all the way through the recipe and bake the perfect soufflé.

She wasn’t entirely sure what number step she was at, or how many previous attempts there had been. 

The next stage, combine the warmed milk with the flour mix, beat continuously to avoid sticking. It didn’t stick, but she did managed to scrape off the non-stick coating of the pan and combine that with all the other ingredients.

Stage 39302, perhaps she was exaggerating. She blew upwards at a random strand of hair that had dared to fall in her eyes. The Doctor reached across and gently tucked her hair behind her ears. She did not shiver at his touch. She did however completely forget the recipe at this point, and neglected to add the lemon juice or zest.

Coming back to herself, she huffed with annoyance and focused on her self appointed task.

Time to combine the egg yolks with the everything else. Return to the heat until it bubbles. Not sweet scrambled eggs then.

She looked in the fridge, she looked in the cupboards, and realised that it was time for the inevitable. It was time to shop. She walked up to the Doctor and extended her hand. He dutifully dropped the card UNIT had issued them with into her hand and set the co-ordinates for the nearest supermarket. He had tried to persuade her on the wonders of alien markets, but when one of the eggs hatched and the creature couldn’t be persuaded out from behind a bookcase for several days, he had relented. He had rhapsodised about the creature, enthusiastically telling her every detail of its exotic lifestyle and insisting on taking them to find an appropriate habitat and home for the little one. Clara knew better than to say it was ugly and had too many eyes.

Now for the egg whites, beat them until they look like clouds – Clara thought of the Doctor’s hair, he really should have grown it longer before. Why wouldn’t the whites go fluffy? She re-read the recipe – make sure the bowl and whisk are scrupulously clean. She looked suspiciously at the whisk and wondered if she had the patience to have the conversation with the Doctor about not using kitchen utensils for his experiments, again.

Gently fold the egg whites into the mix, making sure it has cooled first. MAKING SURE IT HAS COOLED FIRST. 

She went for a lie down.

She repeated all the stages, carefully filled the ramekins and placed them in the oven.

14 mins and do not open the door sooner to check. She successfully grabbed the Doctor just as he was about to do that. His arms flailed.

Just sit, she told him. He obediently sat at the table.

14 mins. 

She lifted out the soufflés and placed one for each of them on a decorative serving plate. The Doctor already had the spoons.

Wobbling slightly they had risen to golden perfection.

Clara dipped her spoon in and took a generous mouthful.

She didn’t realise she was crying ‘til the Doctor gently swiped his thumb across her cheek.


End file.
